


Paintings Born of a Passive Love

by MamaCesa



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, M/M, Marriage, Married Couple, Relationship Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaCesa/pseuds/MamaCesa
Summary: Roman paints when he is overwhelmed.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Paintings Born of a Passive Love

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: a few curse words, arguing, marriage problems

To be okay. What did it mean, to be okay? Everyone seemed to want to be good, or great, or amazing. So clearly being okay would be considered bad? As well as the very known fact that saying one is okay is truly a cover up for feeling like shit. 

Roman took in a deep breath as he mindlessly focused on the feeling of the fan brush dabbing the pattern of trees onto the canvas. It wasn’t a challenging painting. He didn’t know where he was going with it, he just let the paint go where it wanted. The storm in his chest thundered it’s way down his arms and onto the canvas, but when it left his body it was no longer a storm. The images he was bringing forth was a sunny day in a forest, with a simple mountain backdrop. 

Many people brought up the old painter, Bob Ross, when they looked at Roman’s work. How could a young man like Roman ever compare to a master like Bob Ross? Of course he couldn’t. He couldn’t be as good as the painters who would bring forth intricate paintings at will, or as dedicated as those whose paintings sold for hundreds of dollars. It was something that would bring him peace. Just strokes along a canvas to smooth out the bumps. Just choosing colors to apply on the white and hope that it would make sense when it was finished. 

He hummed a greeting when Logan came through the front door. Logan saw the sheet laid out on the living room floor and sighed. He clearly wasn’t in the mood to tell Roman how his painting was coming along. 

Of course he wasn’t, Roman didn’t consider himself a painter. He just had spurts of weeks where his hands were covered in acrylic paint colors no matter how often he washed them. For weeks he’d barely sleep. He’d lose himself in some music and spend hours watching the liquid go where he directed. He loved the barely audible swiping sound the paint made after the brush went back to the palette for more paint. He was only a painter for a few weeks when life was falling apart around him, then he’d put the easel away and shove his work into a drawer. 

Logan was in his study when Roman was finished. It was just another mountain with no name. It was just another forest made with the same technique. There was nothing special about him, or the painting, except for the fact that it was new. 

He dutifully took a picture and posted it. He shoved his phone in his back pocket while it pinged with endless compliments and praise. That wasn’t what he wanted when people adored the visions born of the chaos he felt inside. Yes, he felt better enough to talk to Logan about their fight the night before. His thoughts were in order. He had his words ready and he was feeling like a person for the first time in a while. 

He walked in to see Logan typing away at his desk, no doubt writing his book that he’d been writing since they got married the year before. He rarely wanted company when he was writing but Roman needed his husband to look at him. He needed to be praised with enthusiasm from the one he swore his life to. 

Logan only praised his paintings without prompt, maybe that’s why when they were fighting the home suddenly had more colored pictures. He adored the way Roman could capture a moment in a land that no one had seen before. He would find a detail that was so small and whisper words of adoration. 

Oh, how Roman wished Logan would look at him and worship him like his paintings. He wanted to be under that adoring gaze. When he said so, and when Logan complied, it felt fake. 

The affections from Logan sent his way felt foreign and therefore wrong. It was not on purpose. He knew it hurt his husband, being like this. He knew begging for love and denying it when it came was as horrible an experience for Logan. It was so hard to accept the obviously authentic love coming from the human he gave his heart to. 

Something between them broke months ago, and Roman was struggling to find solution after solution that would be easy to follow for Logan’s specific needs. It was hard to talk about emotional matters when out of nowhere his husband had shut himself off from anything to do with feelings. He was just a robot that shut down after an overload periodically.

Roman knew it was because of the anxiety that gripped Logan when work got too stressful. It was easy to know why his lover would zone in on his writing, and take more alone time than before, and shut down when Roman would spiral. It was so easy to know the motivations and reasons for every breath Logan took. It was one of the reasons they married despite their wide differences-they knew each other so well. 

Roman sat on the couch in the office to just watch Logan write. He had grown to dislike the way Logan’s eyes were covered in a daze when he wrote, which was unfair because he knew he had the same look when he painted. 

The urge to pet the back of his husband’s hair burned at his fingertips. The calm was melting away as a random irritation crawled up his throat. He choked down the bitter passive aggressive greeting he wanted to give, and settled for a simple, “Hey, lover.” 

Logan hummed a response. So at least he had heard Roman. Roman cleared his throat and spoke a little louder, “So, how was your day?” 

“It was an entire day,” Logan responded absently. There was an undercurrent of exasperation in his tone while he paused to look at Roman. “What do you need from me?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Get back to your writing,” Roman waved off. He heard the slightly anxious tone he had taken. The air felt like there was a fight brewing. It thickened with anticipation. 

“My Rose, please don’t play this game with me, what do you need from me?” Logan spun his chair so they were facing each other, his story forgotten. 

“Your attention,” Roman muttered. He kept his eyes downcast. 

“I see. What would you like to do?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Okay, want to watch our show?” 

“No”

“Want to watch a movie?” 

“No” 

“Well, what do you want, then?” Logan snapped. He looked like his nerves were fraying, he sounded like he was desperate. “What do you want from me, My Rose? How can I make you feel better?”

“Spend time with me!” Roman broke, “I know you’re trying but I feel like the time we spend together is passive. It’s neutral. It’s stale. The air here we breathe is the same day in and day out.” Roman took in a breath to steady himself, but his hands still shook. “We can’t seem to be back into sync, cause I see every detail on your body where when you look at me I am just a puzzle you can’t solve! Logan,” Roman’s voice was thick from the crying, “I want you to look at me the way you look at my paintings. I want you to spend time on me that is filled with praise and do things to woo me. What did I do that made you stop when we got married? Why am I the only one with romantic intent?” 

“I try, Roman. I’m always trying, you just never notice!” Logan shot forth. His breathing was getting heavy from his nerves. “I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know why I can’t be who you need! I try to do things for you and spend time together but you shoot me down!” 

“I’m sorry,” Roman cried, “I’m sorry...I don’t know what’s wrong or what’s happening…” Roman knew he wasn’t making sense, but he kept going along with the words gushing forth, “It’s like everything is grey and unreal until I decide to paint, then you love me again when you gush over them, then things are good for a bit, then one small thing happens at work or with me and you’re so riddled with anxiety you don’t have the energy to actively spend time with me.” 

“What do you mean?” Logan ran his hands through his hair, a sign that he was overwhelmed and close to shutting down. 

“You used to do things with me,” Roman’s voice cracked on the last word, “We used to take pictures of flowers until you found it annoying. We tried to cook meals at home until one day you were too tired. We used to make music until the equipment broke and you couldn’t fix it for a while. We used to be active in our love. You used to seek me out, but-” Roman hugged himself, “Now it just feels like your attempts at loving me are passive. You say you do all these things but it feels like you don’t want to, or you’re too tired to put real attention into it.”

Roman reached for Logan’s hand, and they joined automatically. He smiled, “I get it. I have been low energy too, but I think we need to do something active together. Maybe paint.” He giggled at Logan’s cringe, “Or maybe writing in journals? You love to write but sometimes it feels like you love screens more than me since it takes your focus.” 

Logan blushed in shame, “Yes, I believe I have become addicted to my screen time. I think choosing something to do together, no screens or distractions, is a good idea. Maybe not painting since that is something you do to escape,” Roman’s heart fluttered at how Logan had noticed that. He couldn’t help the grin spread on his face. 

“Do you think we can make dinner together? Even on days we’re both too tired, maybe we’ll make easy meals together. Or we could journal, I liked that idea.” Logan gave a small smile, looking hopeful.

Roman nuzzled into his husband’s hand. “I’d like that. Doing something creative with you is probably the most intimate thing you could do with me.” 

“Well, in that case,” Logan smirked, “I can try one painting, though I don’t believe I will match up to the way yours turn out.” 

Roman shot up excitedly. “I am not missing an opportunity to paint with you, Robo Ross.” 

They made it to where the painting materials were still laid out in the living room. Roman set up a space for Logan while he got himself ready. They put some music on and took to their canvases, talking in between strokes, kissing lightly at the end of each detail finished, and for the first time in a long time Roman felt that they were still on the same wavelength after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is just me projecting my problems onto the bois lol. I hope you enjoyed it regardless. I think I have a clearer head now that I wrote it out. So if there's a lesson to be learned here-do something active to help you process things when you feel overwhelmed. It feels less obsessive and hopeless, and you may feel like you're being productive despite the icky feelings. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated.


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